


Falling Through Fire

by remuslives23



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, old fic, poetry porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2839682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslives23/pseuds/remuslives23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's back catalogue is impressive and more than a little intimidating. It has, however, allowed Jack to hone his skills so that he knows exactly how to make a body burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Through Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by lyryk and heddychaa's gorgeous poetry inspired fic at LJ and decided to try my hand. I was thrilled that this was recced at Torchwood House! 
> 
> The poem is 'i like my body when it is with your body' by e.e. cummings

_i like my body when it is with your body  
it is so quite new a thing_

Ianto isn't an insecure man. He knows he has a nice body (his stomach could stand tightening, and his chest might be nicer with less hair, but his arse is fantastic and his limbs strong and lean) but he's never experienced it in the way he does when it's twined with Jack's.

_muscles better and nerves more_

Jack's back catalogue is impressive and more than a little intimidating. It has, however, allowed Jack to hone his skills so that he knows exactly how to make a body burn. Every touch sends a frisson of electricity through Ianto, every stroke sets his skin on fire. With each press of lips, flames lick at sensitized nerve endings and Ianto can feel the heat burning through every vein, every cell. And then, just when Ianto is sure he'll be consumed by the blaze, Jack is there to contain it, to bank it, and keep Ianto safe even as he builds the fire up again.

He feels more with Jack, and it leaves him trembling and spent in a way that scares him to death because no one, not even Lisa, has ever taken so much joy in him, in bringing him pleasure. The way Jack sets about exploring Ianto's body with such determination, the way his entire face lights up when he does something to make Ianto soar, is dangerous for Ianto's heart. Because sometimes, when it's just him and Jack – their bodies singing in unison – it's hard to remember that this isn't his to keep.

_i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones_

This isn't the first time – that was full of nerves and as awkward as hell and Ianto would prefer to just forget all about it, thank you very much – but it's still fresh enough that Ianto can't stop his jaw from dropping in awe when Jack stands naked before him. If he wasn't absolutely certain that Jack would never let him forget it, Ianto would make Jack stand there all day while he tried to capture the perfection of his form with pencil strokes, while he wrote sonnets and verse that spewed flowers and hearts and happily ever afters.

_and the trembling-firm-smoothness_

Where Jack seems to have innate knowledge of Ianto's every erogenous zone, Ianto is still learning Jack's body. He had come into Jack's bed with the preconceived idea that two men meant getting off fast after a bit of a snog then rolling over and falling asleep. He never thought he would want to spend hours exploring the curve of a sandpaper-rough jaw, that he would be lingering over the dip at the base of a spine, admiring the light smattering of fine golden hair and velvet soft flesh, that he would take the time to traverse the angled jut of a shoulder blade or the protruding knob of a hip bone with his tongue. He's mouthed every rise and fall of Jack's spine, mapped every inch of Jack's chest as thoroughly as a cartographer, tongued the shadowed cleft between his buttocks with an eagerness that made him reel afterwards.

_and which i will again and again and again kiss_

He may be the most secretive, frustrating man Ianto has ever met, but when it comes to sex, Jack holds nothing back. His back is a graceful arc a gymnast would be proud of, while his hands twist in the musk-scented sheets beneath them. Their sweat-slick flesh eases their skin's slide, and hot exhales huff from between swollen-bruised lips, raising goosebumps wherever it touches. Ianto's stomach coils tighter and tighter with every breathy sigh, muffled moan, and guttural groan that spills from those lips.

Jack slowly shakes apart under Ianto's touch, and Ianto sees what few are privileged to see – Jack with all his secrets exposed and, if Ianto was the kind to take advantage, he could solve the puzzle right now. But this isn't Jack-the-boss, who drives them all mad, but Jack-the-man, who trusts Ianto enough to piece him back together when it's all over and watches him with a rawness and vulnerability in his eyes that chips away at Ianto's deliberately hardened heart.

_i like kissing this and that of you_

The fifth time they are together is the first time Jack asks Ianto to stay. The quiet, but unmistakable plea in the blurted, 'You don't have to go,' startles them both, but Jack tightens his jaw defiantly and Ianto never could resist a dare so he strips off his clothes and crawls back into bed. They share a soft chuckle as they try to fit two grown men in a bed barely sufficient for one, then lie silently, Jack's chest rising and falling rhythmically against Ianto's back. By the time Ianto drifts off, their respiration has synchronized and Jack's hand is curled tentatively around Ianto's.

_and possibly i like the thrill_

He awakes slowly, blinking in the unfamiliar dim. His pillow is hard beneath his cheek, and it takes a few moments longer than it should for Ianto to realise he's splayed across Jack's warm, firm chest. His stomach does a slow flip and, as his body wakes, his blood begins to stir, heat pooling wherever he and Jack are pressed together.

Jack's breathing is even, his heart beat a regular thump-thump-thump against the hinge of Ianto's jaw, but his hands are dragging over the ridge of Ianto's collar bone, tracing the furl of his ear, gliding along a tendon in his neck, and leaving a trail of fire wherever they go.

_of under me you so quite new_

He's still getting used to it - the hard angles and flat planes instead of soft curves and rounded flesh, but Ianto likes the way they slot together, likes being the one to be held safe in strong arms, likes the way this isn't awkward or strained. He isn't sure if this is something he should want as badly as he does, but Jack's just realised that he's awake and is sucking Ianto's earlobe into his hot, wet mouth so he can't bring himself to care too much.

He notices that they're moving under and around and into each other with practiced ease this time. Jack's hands cradle Ianto's hips, holding him steady in his lap as their bodies rock together. Ianto grips Jack's shoulders, holding on for dear life as his head drops back, reveling in the pleasure that Jack gives, and that he takes.

Jack bites his mark into Ianto's throat, and Ianto welcomes the bone-deep burn of Jack pushing inside him, never more comfortable in his own skin than when he is entwined so completely with Jack that it's hard to tell where they each begin and end.

_i like my body when it is with your body_

His name is whispered into his skin amidst a lyrical rendition of a language he doesn't know, but the cadence is unmistakable no matter what the tongue. Jack's breath catches on the end of a word and he clutches Ianto close. His body knows Jack's, knows he's teetering on the edge of something bigger than a physical release and is waiting for Ianto to join him. Ianto's hands slid up to cup Jack's jaw then he surges forward, kissing Jack deeply as, with hearts and bodies inexorably tangled, they fall as one.

fin.


End file.
